a siren's sorrow
by vintagegrace
Summary: Elinor Carter always thought life was complicated throughout. She never anticipated that her complicated relationship with her father would change everything. Because in one of his desperate attempts to reform her 'wild ways,' he exposes her to a much worse fate-to be forever doomed to be a monster until she can find her fabled Hope.
1. Chapter 1

_1920s — New York City_

The whole city bustles and buzzes with life just outside my window. The bright lights like stars against the hazy night sky. It brings a smile to my face at the thought of what awaits me just on the other side of the glass. My senses itch for the cool feeling of the microphone beneath my fingers, the smell of smoke and alcohol lingering in the air, the tapping of shoes and piano keys as people dance to the jazz music inside the dim little club.

I let out a sigh of content at the mere memory of it. Well, the club and a certain jazz player. The one with the sly smile, gentle touch, and those brown eyes that hold more than the galaxies ever could. My thoughts linger on him and possibilities for tonight's events as I slip my feather band over my hand and fiddle with the fringe of my dress.

Pops doesn't approve of my lifestyle, but it's the only thing I've got to myself these days. Between his rising fame and every one clamoring to invite his daughter to their social events merely for bragging rights, I was feeling more lost than ever before I found my love for jazz, which led to me to find love in so much more.

My knuckles tap out this weeks pattern on the thick mahogany door of what seems like to be an ordinary house downtown. But those that can get inside know it's anything but. Inside and down the stairs lies one of my favorite places, The Starlight, New York City's most hopping—and illegal—jazz club and gin joint. Or as I think of it—my second home.

I tug my jacket closer to my body as another chilly breeze passes by. My heel taps against the doorstep as I impatiently wait for someone to let me in. "Sorry about the wait, Birdy. It's busy tonight." Oliver greets as he opens the door with a wide smile.

"No need to worry, Ollie dear. I'm just gonna go warm up before my set." I tell him with a grin and hand him my jacket before slipping into a side room. Ollie always keeps the place nice so that if anyone is suspicious, it still looks like someone lives here. All it would take is a peek in the window to see a roaring fire and a couple people having casual conversation.

"We go on in five." A warm, familiar voice whispers as arms wrap around my waist, and lips press a feather light kiss to my temple. "You ready, Birdy?"

I turn around and rest my palms against his chest. "Aren't I always, Tommy boy?" His brown eyes crinkle at the corners. Those bright blue eyes that seem to hold more than the galaxies ever could meet mine and send my heart fluttering. My fingers instinctively reach up to brush back the fallen strand of his blond hair.

There's a feeling of uncontainable happiness that flows through me, and I swear even without a drop of gin, I'm already halfway to drunk by the giddy feeling that comes with freedom. It's a stark contrast to the usual restriction of my daytime life.

The rules of society and social life and being a lady. Everyone clamoring for me to attend their parties, whether it be because of my father's name or my natural wit and attitude. It's the life of constant nagging from my father or one of his driver's hovering over my shoulder to report to him later on all my actions.

But here—in the underground night life of our decade, with the jazz music and cigarette smoke drifting through the air, and my love, Tommy, next to me, I'm free.

Tommy's fingers link with mine as we follow the small trail of people down to the basement. I breathe in a sigh of relief as we weave through the crowds of flapper girls and their beaus as they dance and drink the illegal booze this place pumps.

"Come on, Birdy. Time to share your song." He whispers as we linger in the wings. Theta's, my best friend, is just finishing up her number with the usual flourish she always brings. When she finishes, I step up on the platform and offer her a tight hug, before taking the microphone.

I relish the feeling of the cold metal against my fingertips. My hips gently sway to the time of Tommy's piano playing. Our eyes meet for a second, and we get lost in our own little world as we fall into the comfort of the club and jazz.

Everyone stops for a second at the immediate sound of my voice, which still brings a smile to my face every night. Girls smack their beaus to keep them from standing there slack-jawed and drooling and force them to keep dancing. It's only a moment before the immediate awe wears off, and the entire place is the hopping.

I'm lost in the beauty of it all. It's what our folks don't seem to get—why we do this. There's a sliver of rebellion, that much they have partly correct, but they can't seem to understand how this is it for us. Down here, we can be ourselves, forget our troubles, rules and regulations, and just be free.

For me, the nights in the Starlight help me breathe. They remind me there's more to life than perfect etiquette and social rules. I can be Elinor—the girl with the beautiful voice. People don't look at me with pity or disdain. They don't see the reflection of my mother or watch with rapt attention to see if I'll snap too—if I'll just leave like her.

No, down here, I'm Elinor—singer, flapper, beauty, and lover. I'm entirely me.

I catch a glance of Tommy as he continues to play the piano and shoot him a wink. It makes his lips curl up into that devilish grin I love so much, and I can't wipe the smile from my crimson lips through the rest of the set. Because this—this is my happiness.

The night went by in a blur of smile, laughs, and stolen glances between our show. I swear, he never looks more handsome than when he's playing the piano or watching me sing. Although, I think he looks handsome all the time. Even like right now as he takes me back to my building, cigarette hanging from his lips, and hair gently falling in his face.

"Are you sure we can't just stay out forever?" I lean against his shoulder and close my eyes to enjoy the moment while it lasts. "Just stay out forever and forget about how our parents want nothing more than to marry us off to perfect little Gibson girl's and Arrow Collar Men. We could just stay like this—together."

"That sure sound nice, Birdy, but we both know that it wouldn't work out." His fingers trace circles over the fringe on my hip, and his lips press a feather light kiss to my temple. "Not just yet. I promise you one day."

"I like the sound of that promise." I tell him and press my hands on his chest. Maybe it's the alcohol still buzzing in my system, or maybe I'm just too giddy at Tommy's promise of forever. Because I ignore every ounce of reason as my fingers wrap around his lapels and tug him down to my level.

Our noses brush together, dark brown and crystal blue eyes stare into each other, and lips just centimeters apart, "I love you, Thomas Parker."

"I love you too, Elinor Carter, my precious little bird." His words make my heart flutter like a hummingbird's wings. I lean in to close the distance between us. It's not our first kiss, but nothing has felt like this before.

My head spins at the kiss.. I wonder if it's the effects of the alcohol doing it or if I'm merely drunk on him. There's the lingering taste of gin and cigarette oh his lips alongside the peppermint gum he always busy for a nickel. His calloused fingertips brush against my arms, and my hands rest on the back of his neck.

We part with heavy breaths and goofy smiles. "I should probably head inside before my Pops blows a gasket."

His thumb traces across my cheekbone as he presses a delicate kiss to my forehead. "Goodnight, Birdy. I'll call you tomorrow."

I manage enough will to untangle let him go and take one last glance behind me as my heels click against the pavement. There's a smile that has permanently plastered itself across my face as I reenter the lobby and make it back up to the penthouse, just in time for my curfew.

Unfortunately, Poppa is waiting in his chair with a sour look on his face. "Elinor, I'm glad to see you still know how to make curfew on time."

"I told you I'd be back in time." I tell him as I gently walk through the living room. "Everything alright?"

"No, sweetheart, it's not." He lets out a sigh. "I need you to be honest with me about something. Please, sit down." I do as he asks and slip down into the plush cushions of our couch. His hazel eyes bore into me as he twirls his glasses. "Where have you been going out at night?"

One thing I've learned over the many years with my father, and more recently in the months since Ma left, I've come to learn how to read Pops and know when I'm cornered. It's the only reason he would be acting like this—because he knows.

"I've been going out with friends—to parties." I bite my lip and wait for the backlash of it all. "I sing, Pops, and people like hearing my voice."

"They have every right to; you have a beautiful voice, Elinor. Just like your mother." He pauses and pursues his lips. "Anyone in particular you've been spending time with?"

My heart drops in my chest. He knows—he knows about Tommy and I. "Look, I didn't want you find out like this, but I—"

"I don't want you seeing him anymore. Is that understood?"

"Pops, please, don't do this. You don't understand what he means to me."

My father's whole demeanor changes. Body goes rigid, eyes turn cold, and his knuckles become white. "Elinor Ada Carter, I have told you time and time again you are forbidden from seeing Thomas Parker and going to those jazz clubs or so help me you will never leave this house again."

Something in me just snaps. After so many nights of sitting in this exact same position and hearing him voice the exact same fears, something just breaks inside me. Because this is in no way about me. It's about Ma. It's _always_ about her.

"No." I whisper through grit teeth. "No, I'm still gonna go out, and you can't stop me unless you _really_ want me to live up to your expectations. I love you, Poppa, but there's no stopping me. We both know I'm twice as stubborn as you, which means I'll get my way."

I soften and unclench my hands with a sigh. "Please, Poppa, I need you to understand. I'm almost seventeen, and you can't treat me like a child forever. You have to let me grow up eventually." Tears are building in his eyes too. "I love you, Poppa."

"I love you too, Elinor." He pauses and sets his glasses down with a sigh. "Perhaps this is a discussion we should finish in the morning. It's been a long day, and we both need rest."

I nod, despite the sinking feeling in my gut. Maybe I'm being paranoid, but my stomach churns with nerves like never before. Each click of my heels against the floor echoes like a gunshot in my ears. All piling together into this vast feeling of terror and _wrong_.

Even my silky pajamas or the picture I keep of Tommy and I brings me no comfort. I lay awake all night listening to my father's mutters from the other room. Each word slips away in an indecipherable mumble that only makes me feel increasingly nervous.

Poppa never mutters. He's always been the kind of man who spoke his mind, a trait I picked up from him since I never seemed to know when to hold my tongue. So hearing him like this is almost disturbing, even if it's not the first time.

It happens almost every night we have an argument or one of his grand plans to keep me contained doesn't go to plan. He mumbles all night. I lay awake in distress until it all somehow fades to background noise or the sun rises.

This just feels different somehow. He's been more anxious, jumpy, and angry. I swear I can't even mention my birthday without him jumping the gun on me. Although, I suppose that might just be because it's so close to the anniversary of when Ma said she was going to visit my Aunt and never came back. The memory of her brings tears to my eyes, because as much as I despise what she did, I miss her just as much as Poppa.

We never talk about it though, which left me all alone in my grief. Until I met Tommy in the Starlight one lucky night, and he made everything bright again, which is only half the reason I love him.

And despite Poppa's disapproval, I know I would do anything to be with him, even if it meant repeating my Ma's actions.


	2. Chapter 2

"Birdy!" Theta calls from the other side of store's section, successfully making the associate helping her practically leap in surprise. I press my hand over my mouth to suppress a chuckle at the multitude of glares she's drawing. Still, Theta doesn't seem to notice as she bounds over to me and place a cloche on my head. "Just as I thought, it's perfect. You _have_ to get it."

I glance at myself in the small mirror and smile when I notice why she's so adamant about this hat. Right on the side where the side of the hat is tucked upwards, it's secured with a decorative gem and peacock feather that stand out against the rich black of the fabric. "Well, it's better than one of the ones with the giant bows you keep trying to force on me." I tease as I admire my reflection.

"Come on, doll." She glances over her shoulder at my babysitter for the day before dropping her voice to a whisper. "We both know you don't need to be claiming single these days. No bow for you since you got a beau."

We both burst into a fit of giggles at the atrocious joke. "Theta Anders, you are completely ridiculous sometimes." She just rolls her eyes at me and waits for my answer. "I'm still getting it though."

Her cheers follow me as I make my way over to the counter and purchase my items. All the while, I take my dear sweet time to delay the inevitable comment from Jimmy—or James, as he forcefully corrects me—about going back and being locked away in the apartment for the rest of the day.

Luckily, I have a plan like I usually do.

"Miss Carter, it's time to leave." Jimmy reminds me as he hovers over my shoulder while I double check my bags. "Your father wants you home before three o' clock."

"Actually, there was a change of plans." I lie casually. My heels click against the floor, and James shuffles to keep up with me. "There are a few things I'd like to give Poppa in person. So we need to swing by the office before we go home."

"Ma'am," Jimmy starts, but I hold up a hand to him and pointedly ignore him until he corrects himself. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking, "Elinor—you know that I'm not allowed to do that. You're father gave me specific instructions to—"

"—And I'm giving you mine." Jimmy's eyes widen when I round on him with crossed arms and a deathly serious look that I learned from my Pops. "My father hired you to watch over me, make sure I get home safely, and don't run off anywhere. Isn't that correct?"

"Yes, miss, but—"

"—But nothing, Jimmy. I will be perfectly fine at my father's office. After all, if he's _so_ concerned, he'll be able to watch me _himself_ while I'm there." I wait for an argument, but when none comes—just like I planned—I nod and hand him most of my bags. "Alright, now that the matter is settled, we should get going. I don't want to get stuck in traffic again."

Jimmy sighs, and I'll admit it makes me feel a little drunk on power to see him crumble like that. Perks of being raised under the tutelage and doting of Henry Carter, top architect and one of New York's most powerful—and richest—businessmen. I've learned the ways to getting what I want, and the stubbornness I inherited from my mother keeps me from every giving in easily.

Tommy tells me it's one reason he fell for me. Because I'm 'different from the other Sheba's who are all talk no force.' Lucky for him, I feel in love with him cause he pushed back. Most people just give in and crumble right away like poor Jimmy, but not Tommy, he's got a fire all his own that makes mine burn brighter.

I watch the city fly by in a rush of honking cars, shouting people, and life going on in the most authentic way possible. Although, I don't really allow myself to appreciate it. I'm far too caught up in planning how to catch a moment with Tommy without getting caught to do so. Pops is bound to be hovering over me like I'm an infant in need of constant care.

Still, there's always a momentary lapse. A split second of a close-eyed sigh after a snarky comment, or a glance at another document. Each one a plentiful opportunity for a secretive glance. All which mean so much more under our parent's growing protests and disapproval.

"We're here, Miss." Jimmy calls from the front seat before climbing out and rushing—but failing—to open my door for me. "Is there anything I can carry for you?"

"No, I'll be fine." I tell him with a sigh. The poor boy tries so hard in the hopes of gaining favor with my father that it gets quite frustrating. "I'm going to head up while you park the car, Jimmy."

"It's James." He whispers underneath his breath as he turns away, which makes me laugh slightly to myself. I wait a moment until he's driven away before turning back to the building with a wide grin.

The elevator groans as I take it up to the seventh floor, which contains most of the executive offices. My bags tap against my skirt with every step in a silent reminder they're there. I hold my head high as the eyes of many of my father's staff trail after me. All the while, I continue on my way through the familiar maze of desks.

"Miss Carter, a pleasure to see you." An all too familiar voice chimes from just behind me. I suppress a smile as I turn to face him. "You're looking lovely as always."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Mr. Parker."

"I am wounded, Elinor." Tommy places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "My self-esteem will never recover."

"Well, I'm quite sure your ego will soften the blow and quickly restore it." I turn away from him and add a bit of extra sway to my hips as I leave. "Now, if you don't mind, I came to see my father."

"I'm afraid he's in a meeting at the moment. So it looks like you're stuck with me."

"My what a shame." I whisper happily as we both walk to my father's office to wait. Once we're out of earshot of others, I turn to Tommy. "So, I'm assuming your parents know too? Pops confronted me a few nights ago. Not to mention, he's had all the staff refuse to let me leave past seven."

Tommy lets out a sigh and runs a hand through his previously meticulously styled hair. "Oh, they know. I received quite the earful over you." He pauses and gives me a look. "Of course, you're entirely worth any lecture or punishment they could give."

"Oh am I now?" I tease with a grin as I settle myself into my father's chair. "Good to know that you think so highly of me."

Tommy releases a quick laugh as he shakes his head and leans back against the desk. "C'mon, Birdy, you and I both know that—"

"Well, well, if it isn't Miss Carter here to grace us with her wondrous presence." Christopher Martin interrupts with a slick grin from the doorway. I bite my tongue to hold back a snarky quip or face. "You're looking lovely this afternoon. Is that a new hat?"

"Actually it is. Thank you for noticing, Christopher." I retort and try to hide the disdain from my voice. "I was actually just asking if he had seen my father. Would you mind going and getting him for me?"

"It would be my honor, but he is currently in a private meeting." Oliver grins like a cat, which makes my stomach roil. Every time he looks at me, I suddenly feel like nothing more than a prey before its hunter, and I despise him for it. "Although, I would be happy to help you out in other ways."

My stomach churns at the mere thought of his underlying meanings, and Tommy's fingers curl into fists around the edge of the desk. I swear, if looks could kill a man, Oliver Martin would be nothing but dust under the hateful glare of Tommy and I.

"Actually, could you be a gem and get me a coke?" I bat my eyelashes at him to really persuade him. Luckily, he's too distracted at the moment to really think of a way out.

"Sure thing, doll. Be back in a jiffy." He grins with a wink as he leaves.

"Don't hurry back." I comment under my breath once he's gone. "I swear, one day, I'm going to let my dad catch him looking at me like that. Then he won't even have eyes to ogle me with."

"Or you could just let me at him." Tommy comments still glaring at the empty space that Oliver previously occupied. "I'll make sure he knows how to act around a lady."

"Or—and this is my favorite idea—I could take care of him. I wouldn't mind getting a few swings in myself." I stand up and take one of Tommy's clenched fists in my hands. My fingers rub over his palm and release the tension. "After all, I'm already taken by the best of them."

"Yeah, I suppose you are. Even if we can't always be open about it." There's an edge of sadness to his voice that makes me frown. Tommy has always been the caring, protective type. Never jealous, just worried. I know how much he wants to have those same moments everyone else does—to be able to wrap me in his arms and call me his to the world instead of just a jazz club.

"One day." I remind him with a delicate smile. "Just like you promised, right?"

He lifts my hands and presses a feathery kiss to my knuckles. "Yeah, one day, Birdy."

"You should probably go before my pops comes and finds us." I whisper sadly as I watch his thumb trace over the ridges of my knuckles. Always with the kindest, loving touch. "I don't want you to get into trouble with your folks either."

"You're still worth all the trouble in the world, Birdy." He tells me and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll go though—just for you."

Pops comes in a moment later with a sour look on his face. If I didn't know better, I might just think that he was sucking on a lemon or something. "Everything okay, Pops?" I question tentatively and shift on my feet. "You look upset."

His expression softens a little when he sees me. "I'm fine, Ellie." He gives me a brief hug before moving around his desk and sorting through his papers. "So what brings you here? And where is that James boy—isn't he's supposed to be with you?"

"James was parking the car." I tell him and hand him the small Bloomingdales' bag. "I came by because I got something for you this afternoon. I thought you could wear it to my birthday party?"

He looks at the tie for a long second before meeting my eyes with confusion. "Party? What party? Is it nearly your birthday already?"

"Yeah, Pops. I'm turning seventeen next week." My smile and hopes drop when the realization that he actually forgot settles in. "You told me you were gonna organize the party for it."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and avoids my gaze. "I'm sorry, Elinor. I don't think you'll have a party this year. What with your mother gone and your recent behavior, I don't think it's a good idea."

I grit my teeth and bite back the snappy comment threatening to be said. Instead, I just nod and hold back my disappointment. "That's fine. I suppose I can just celebrate with Theta and a few friends at dinner or something." His expression is still sour as if even that is too much, but he still says nothing. "I'm just gonna have James take me home then. Bye, Pops."

"Wait," he calls right as I make it to the doorway. I swallow my hurt and anger, replace them with a smile on his face, and turn to meet his gaze. "was that the young Mr. Parker I saw leaving here earlier?"

My fingers curl into fists at the thought of another round of lectures, angry accusations, and further punishment or restrictions. "Yes, he was merely being a gentleman and walking me to your office while you were in your meeting." I watch as the familiar crease of frustration appears between my father's brow, which makes me smile softly and as innocently as possible. "I assure you, Poppa, we barely spoke. He was treating me as he would any visitor. Nothing more."

There's a lingering distrust and unbelief in his the blue eyes I used to wish I had inherited. Now, all I can see there is ice—cold and judgmental, and any sense of warm emotions bury deep beneath the worry. "I'm glad you finally decided to listen to me for once, Elinor." He finally says with a tense smile, and I know he doesn't believe a single word either of us just spoke. "Why don't you have James take you home, and then we can go out to dinner tonight. We'll consider it an early birthday celebration before we discuss the actual event."

"Sure thing, Poppa." I tell him with a bittersweet look. "I'll see you at home then?"

"Of course," He smiles, but there's something else there I haven't seen before. It's startling and cold. A shiver runs through me from the look, but he just keeps smiling as I turn to leave again. "Just be sure to send James in here before you go. I have a few matters I want to discuss with him."

I nod and send James in after me. Something twists in my stomach at the lingering feeling of my father's and my meeting. There was just something so unlike my father in his eyes, like the madness I picture when I read the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. It was so calm yet unhinged.

"Here you go, darling." Christopher chimes from next to me and nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I look at him incredulously before noticing the bottle of coca-cola in his hand, which drips condensation onto my skin as I accept it with a dazed look. "What, no thank you?"

"Thank you, Christopher." I mumble before turning to him with an empty gaze as my thoughts are still lost. "Don't you have work to return to?" His eyes widen in surprise at my abrupt comment before he quickly scurries off.

Normally I would crack a smile at the sight of Christopher practically running away from me, but the churning in my stomach doesn't allow me much enjoyment. I sip on the cold drink in my hand with some ridiculous hope that it will provide a distraction of any sorts. The most is does is fill my mouth with carbonation.

I can feel eyes lingering on me. The gazes of Pop's employees wondering what has the boss's kid looking so dour. One pair of deep brown eyes holds a concern that the rest lack, and it makes the hard edge of my frown soften under his gaze. I try to offer him a smile, but the best I can manage is less of a frown.

A part of me wishes I could walk over to him and speak freely—maybe hold his hand if I'm feeling scandalous. Yet, I know there's no way to do so. Because any moment one of our parents—or someone more than willing to rat us out to them—could see.

Then, there would be nothing for us. No more promises of "one day," jazz club nights, or goodbye kisses. Because if either of our fathers knew just how deep our feelings went, we'd be on a one way trip to boarding school or engaged so fast our heads would spin.

It's one risk I could never take. I love Tommy too much to chance what we have—no matter how little it may be. If I lost him, I think I would lose a piece of myself.

"Ready to go, Miss Carter?" Jimmy asks as he nervously turns his hat in his hands, and I'm still too entrapped in my own head to remind him to call me 'Elinor.' Instead, I just nod and adjust the bottle and purse in my hands as we walk out.

Something in the back of my mind acknowledges the oddity of James's current behavior. His fingers keep drumming against the steering wheel, and his eyes refuse to stay focused on a part of the road like usual. It strikes me as quite peculiar. Jimmy's always been the focused, stoic, and still type, and only one explanation for the change comes to mind.

"What did he say to you?"

"I don't know what you're asking about, Miss Carter." He tries to remain casual, but I can see it in his demeanor. He knows _precisely_ what I'm talking about. I remain quiet and simply wait for him to break. A trickle of sweat appears on his brow as he rushes to come up with a plausible excuse. "Your father wanted to discuss my position and performance. Nothing more than that, Miss Carter."

"I don't believe you, James, but I obviously can't force you to tell me anything. Just know I will find out if it involves me. So, for your sake, I certainly hope it doesn't." I snap before making a point fo ignoring James for the rest of the way back home. Even as the elevator operator tries to make small talk, I remain completely silent.

Something is wrong. The way my father seemed so eerily calm in comparison to these last weeks and James's skittish behavior, it just doesn't settle right with me. I don't bother to even look back as I march into the apartment and slam the door to my room shut.

My hat collides with the lamp shade as I toss it aside in frustration. It only grows as I try to sort through the growing puzzle. Nothing seems to make much sense. The only thing that seems halfway normal is my relationship with Tommy, and it takes all my self control to not ring him up for his opinion.

There's a click, and my stomach drops down to the lobby, where it lands with a thunk. I race over to my door to confirm my worst assumption. The handle clicks but doesn't move in the slightest.

I rest my forehead against it with a heavy sigh. Poppa has done things similar before, but nothing has been this extreme. Most times it's someone watching me and staying with me to make sure I stay in the penthouse. He's been paranoid, cautions and restrictive. Now, he's completely bonkers.

This must be what my father was talking to Jimmy about. Maybe he's truly gone round the bend. All I know for certain is that I'm trapped with no clear way out.


	3. Chapter 3

The front door slams shut, and the sound echoes through the whole penthouse. I perk up from my window seat spot, half in wonder of what will happen next and the other half in total dread. My father had me locked away in here for the majority of the day, and there's no telling why, what he's thinking, or what he'll decide to do next.

His footsteps wander around the apartment, and his nightly conversations with the walls picks up earlier than usual. I move to press my ear against the door, but the words are still muffled.

"Poppa?" My tongue forms the word before I can think better of it. "Pops, please, let me out of here, or at least explain why you had me locked in my room."

It's like a coin flip. The lock to the door clicks and hand turns. My father is the same eerie calm I had seen from him earlier. "I'm sorry about the misunderstanding, Elinor. I had asked James to watch over you until I had gotten back."

"So he thought it more efficient to lock me in my room and leave?" I question, doubtful of any truth to this story. "Pops, please, just tell me what's going on. You've been acting odd lately."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He coos and lifts a hand to brush over my hair. "Things have been difficult lately, but I want to make it up to you. Consider it an apology for how distrusting I've been and an early birthday celebration. Just until I can find a proper gift for my wonderful daughter."

Something in me knows this isn't right—that there is something wrong. Yet, my heart is too happy to see my Pops being his kind, loving self that it's hard to care. It feels like an eternity of that troubled look on his face, that sadness always lingering, and moods that come out of nowhere. Any sliver of happiness feels like a blessing I'll take in any dose I can get.

"Sure thing, Pops." I smile half-heartedly. "Maybe it will give us a chance to talk about what's been going on lately. We haven't really been talking much."

"Yes, yes." He mutters and pats down his pockets in search of something. "Why don't you go get ready, and we can go to that restaurant on West 44th that you love so much."

"Really? And here I thought you hated that place. You always complain that it's too expensive and such." I smile at the fact that he remembered. Although, he doesn't know why I love it so much. Tommy and I sneak in sometimes before our nights at the jazz club. It's always so snazzy and luxurious; the place has some lovely memories for me. Plus, we get to socialize and spend time with some of the biggest names in theater and the press if you pick the right time of night.

"Well, I'm sure I can handle it for one night if it means that I can make my daughter happy." For a moment, that strange look is gone, and all that's left is the father I knew as a child is back. "Now go get ready, Elinor. Then we can head out."

I press a kiss to his cheek and ignore the sinking in my gut. There is so much about this that is screaming for me to not follow along. But it's hard for me to ignore the fact that my dad is being so sweet and kind like he used to be before Mum left. It's a comfort that I can't deny I've missed far too much.

Still, I know how much Tommy and Theta would be lecturing me for going along if they knew the situation. Even I'm starting to think I'm a little insane as we climb into my Pop's car. Especially as that foggy look returns to Pop's eyes, my stomach starts to churn at the sight.

The feeling only worsens as we pass by the familiar restaurant front. "Pops, I thought we were going to Sardi's? You just passed the street."

"Oh, yes. I have a small surprise ready for you before we get dinner." He says it so calmly that it makes panic flutter through me. For a split second, I consider trying to jump out when he slows down to stop and making a run for it. Especially as he takes a turn down one of the seedier streets and stops in front of a dingy shop.

A faded sign written in a different language with the equally faded English translation underneath a strangely decorated palm. It reads, "Madame Vitario, fortune teller and mystic."

"Pops, what—what are we doing here?" I question as he leads me inside. "You always tell me you never believe in fortune telling and mysticism."

"Yes, well, this isn't about me." He replies and seems to shut down the matter entirely as a surprisingly young woman emerges through a colorful curtain with a smile. "Now, Miss Vitario, this is my daughter, who I spoke to you on the phone about earlier."

"Ah, so this is the lovely Elinor." She smiles with a gap between her two front teeth and a heavy accent. "Come, come with me. We talk in private."

The woman grabs my hand and leads me past the bright curtain she emerged from only a moment before. I look back to my father helplessly, but he only smiles emptily with that worrisome gleam in his eyes. "Sit down, if you please." Madame Vitario instructs as she moves some items off the table. "You're father told me much about you, Elinor. He said you like to sing? And that you are in love with a boy he does not approve of?"

I fold my hands atop the table, a cool anger settling in. "Yes, but I don't see how any of that is your business or why my father would tell you any of those things."

The raven haired woman smiles at me like a cat. "He seems to think I can help."

"With what?"

"You. Your father wishes for me to help him settle you down, to convince you that you are making mistakes. So, he comes to me just like many others have."

"And what exactly do you plan to do?"

"Give me your hands." She demands, palms up as if to demonstrate. It's a long moment of us starting at one another before I finally give in despite my better judgement. "Now, I'm going to tell you a story." She says softly as her fingers begin to trace over the lines of my palms.

"And how is a story going to do _anything_?" I question, but I get no answer despite a long hard look from Madame Vitario.

"You will often hear the old Greek story of the Sirens, or should I say the lies they told. They claimed that Sirens were monsters who lured sailors into rocky coves with the sound of their voice, but it is not true. That is a story created out of the fear of ordinary men. Sirens were still human; they had just been changed. They were people with something special, who saw the darkness in the souls of others and were the only ones who could banish it.

"They were much like you, Elinor, but before they were changed. The thing that they valued most about themselves—what others would remember them by—was taken away from them. It was replaced by something else. A quality as unique to them as the one taken away.

"Those qualities were used to search for the one thing that could return what they had lost and to fulfill their destiny until it was found. It was used to determine who a person truly was. They received a gift to help cleanse those who needed it most and to eventually cleanse themselves." Madame Vitario's slender fingers shift and wrap around my wrist. "A gift that you will receive too."

As the words leave her lips, something strange starts to happen. My head spins as her voice and strange words become foggy and muddled. Pain shoots up from her grip around my wrist traveling and hitting my throat full force until it feels like acid tracing every inch.

I open my mouth to scream, but the sensation of taking in air only makes it worse. Every part of my body is writhing under her grip, unable to process what is going on. All the while, Madame Vitario sits across from me calm as can be as she continues to whisper.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it all stops.

Tears continue to stream down my face as I tear my hands away from the vile woman in front of me. My fingers wrap around the worn down armrests. "What have you done to me?" I mean to scream at her, but all that comes out are grotesque, hollow noises. My lips mouth the words a hundred times, but the result is always the same.

I press my hands to my throat as the realization hits me. "I am sorry, child, but you will soon understand the gift I gave you is worth far more than what I took." The chair topples over as I scramble to leave as quick as possible.

Pops stands up from his seat in the dingy lobby as I run out and calls my name. I don't hear him—or better yet— I don't listen. He chases after me as I run. I run away from him, from the psychotic Madame, from everything until I reach the main, bustling street.

That's when I finally crumble to my knees with a mangled sob. Pops finally catches up to me, clearly confused by my lack of explanation as I shove him away. "Elinor, what's wrong? Is everything okay?" He questions as he takes a step closer.

I merely glare and shove him away with another guttural cry. He doesn't seem to get the message as he grabs hold of my flailing arms, clearly still confused. It's clear when it all finally dawns on him. I have no voice, no words, nothing but strangled, guttural sounds.

He looks back over his shoulder toward the old shop we were at moments before. Then, it all clicks. His eyes fill with sorrow, regret, and a touch of anger as he speaks. "She took your voice."


	4. Chapter 4

It's been nearly two days, but in all honesty, it has felt like two decades. Pops hasn't stopped trying to comfort me in any way he can think of. Yet, I always push him away. He's done enough for me already.

So far, the only exchanges we've had is when I allowed him to take me back to the penthouse. Once we made it here, I refused to so much as look at him. I don't want to hate him, but it's the only thing I can currently feel towards him. Every ounce of familial love is buried under layers of malice caused by his desire for a daughter I could never truly be.

"Excuse me, Mr. Carter, but I'm here to see Elinor. She hasn't answered my calls and never showed up for lunch like we always go to on Tuesdays." Theta's familiar voice echoes through the apartment. I peek from my bedroom to witness her shoving her way past Pops into the penthouse and moving with such gusto that no one would dare stop her.

The moment she finds me perched at my windowsill, she closes the door with a tight smile. "Goodness, Birdy, you really can't scare me like that—or Thomas for that matter. He was in such a panic when you didn't show up at the Starlight."

I look down at my hands before returning my gaze to the city outside. "Birdy? Are-are you alright? Did your Pops do something crazy to 'reform' you again?" Tears build in my eyes at the question. I want so badly to tell her everything, to articulate even the barest explanation of what happened, but there's no words left in me. "Elinor, please, say something. You're scaring me."

The use of my actual name finally breaks me, and I clamp a hand over my mouth to avoid the horrifying noise that I now make. Theta wastes no time to wrap her arms around me. "Doll, you've gotta tell me what's wrong."

My breath comes in hiccups as I move out of her grip to my typewriter. Theta just watches me patiently as a crease appears between her brows. "It's a long story, and I don't even know if you'll believe me." The letters appear one at a time, and Theta reads each word aloud, her hair bouncing as she turns to me in confusion. So I continue on, telling her the whole thing as I break down in tears with each word.

By the time I've finished, there's a page and a half of neatly typed letters with that make up the entire story of how broken I've become. Theta turns to me with tears brimming over in those vibrant green eyes that make the boys fall for her in an instant. "We've got to get you out of here. There's no way I'm letting you stay here a moment longer."

I look to the door and hope she'll understand the question I'm posing. "Never mind him. Get dressed; I'm taking you to Thomas. He'll have a better idea of what to do about all of this." Theta lets out a heavy sigh. "Maybe it really was a bunch chin and you'll get it back. Either way, I'm not going to let you stay here a moment longer—and I'm sure Tommy will more than agree. Just get dressed, doll, I'll take care of the rest."

It only takes a minute before I'm dressed with my hair still in a frightful mess and not a spot of makeup on with an overnight bag in hand. Still, it's not as though I can bring myself to care at right now. All I can think about is Tommy, because I know just how angry he'll be when he hears about everything, and I can't afford to lose anything—or anyone—else.

Theta quickly comes back into the room with her head held high as she takes my hand and drags me after her. Pops barely looks up from his fidgeting hands as we stalk our way out the front door. I suppose, he's too ashamed to face me or Theta. "Down to the lobby, please." She chimes politely to the operator as she keeps a hold of my hand and rubs gentle circles on it.

We make it to the Starlight in record time, and the old house looks like nothing more in the daylight. It helps me to understand why no one knows of the secrets and comfort it hides away. Although, I don't know how often I'll frequent here without being able to perform on stage.

It hurts to think of it. That woman stole so much more than my voice. She stole my chance of more moments with Tommy. The ones where we get lost in the music and find each other in the performance. Now, that is going to be lost with my voice.

"Ollie, thank you so much for letting us disrupt your schedule." Theta chimes as Ollie greets us at the door. "Like I said on the phone, it's a bit of an emergency."

"Of course, anything for my stars." He chuckles and drops his voice to a whisper. "Plus, it helps diffuse any suspicions. People coming over is a normal thing to do."

"And Thomas? Is he here yet?"

Ollie nods and nods inside. "A few minutes ago. He seemed quite flustered, wouldn't even sit down. Been waiting for you in the parlor."

As if the sound of his name draws him out, Tommy rounds the corner with wild eyes. The moment his eyes fall on me, he lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Birdy, you're okay. I was so terrified when Theta called saying something happened to you." My eyes water up as I drop my bag to the floor and all but collapse in his arms. "Wait, what's wrong?"

"We should sit down. It's a long story to tell." Theta interjects as she opens up her bag and unfolds the papers I typed out earlier. "Plus, you're certainly not going to like what you hear."

I sit helplessly with my hands fidgeting atop my lap as Theta recounts the whole gruesome tale to Thomas and Ollie in the words I told her earlier. Tommy turns to me as she speaks, eyes full of sorrow as each detail is recounted. My eyes fill with tears as I reach out for his hand. He quickly takes it in his and squeezes before standing up.

"That's it. I'm gonna kill him." He yells as he moves to march out the door. I jump into his path and set my jaw. "Birdy, please, let me do this."

I shake my head and extend my arms to block the door. "No." I try to speak out of habit, but of course, nothing comes out except another odd noise that hurts worse than almost anything else. Tommy's eyes immediately drop to me with such pain it makes my own heart ache in my chest.

"This shouldn't have happened to you. Despite what you say it is my fault." Tommy whispers with a sadness that resonates in me too. "I shouldn't have let it happen to you, Birdy. Especially not when I was just about to give us our someday."

I tilt my head at him wondering what on earth he could be talking about. Theta has the same question I did and actually voices it. Tommy finally meets my eye as he reaches into his coat pocket. It takes me a long moment to tear my eyes away from him and to the small, velvet box resting in his palm.

The sight of the box alone makes my breath catch in my throat, and I swear it becomes impossible to breathe when he flips open the lid. "I had asked for his permission a few days ago after you stopped by." Tommy whispers as he takes the emerald ring from its cushion and waits for my hand.

"It made me realize that I didn't want to wait any longer for us to have a someday. Not to mention, I know how much it hurt you and your father when your mum left, so I wanted to do it properly."

I place my hand in his and watch with teary eyes as he slides the ring onto my finger. My heart shatters in my chest. There's a part of me that wonders if this is genuine, if Tommy could still truly want to marry me. Although, like always, he seems to know exactly what I'm thinking. "Nothing in this world could make me love you any less. Even without a voice, you are still are still the same woman I feel in love with and want to have a thousand somedays with."

A real smile starts to dance across my lips. Because, right now I don't think I could love him any more than this exact moment. "We'll give you two some time." Theta chimes as she and Ollie slip out.

"Are you gonna be alright?" Thomas asks after a long moment of being wrapped in his arms. I nod against his chest and pretend that I'm not on the verge of tears.

"I'm gonna let that little lie slide for now, but I am gonna help you take your mind off of it. Tonight, we're both gonna knock back some gin, dance, and forget about our crazy parents for one night. How does that sound?"

A smile creeps across my face as I nod. It's a small comfort face a fear and find it irrational. At this point, I take every ounce of it, which seems to make Tommy a little bit happier.

There's his little smile across his lips that makes my heart melt a little at the sight of it. I start—just for a moment—to believe that maybe, things will be alright—maybe I can be happy with Tommy after all.


End file.
